


The Kings and the First Wife

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [57]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Sex, Past Abuse, Prostitution, secrets and lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9353696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: Thranduil and Thorin travel to The Grey Havens together and shadows from the past come back to haunt them.  Tolkien tells us nothing about Thranduil’s wife, not even her name, but I have touched upon their marriage in previous stories.  Here, I expand upon this and we learn how what happened between this couple years before and the way in which Thranduil attempted to resolve their problems, now nearly destroy his relationship with Thorin. Standalone story but can be read as part of a series.





	

 

**I'm back after a bit of a hiatus.  Enjoy my new Thorinduil story!**

 

.o00o.

 

 

The Kings and the First Wife

 

Pt I

 

“I’m glad you decided to come with me,” murmured Thranduil, brushing his lips tenderly against the soft hair of Thorin’s beard.  They lay together in a shared bed roll and the elven king could see his lover’s eyes glitter in the light of the stars.  “Such a gesture - even though, when we reach The Grey Havens, you’ll have to hang around for a month on your own whilst I visit my relatives.”  And he pressed a grateful kiss against the dwarf’s throat.

 

“Well,” said Thorin gruffly, trying to make light of it.  “It was either no sex for a month in The Grey Havens or no sex for four months if I stayed behind in Erebor.  Not such a sacrifice.”

 

Thranduil dug him in the ribs.  “Now, stop spoiling this romantic moment, my love, or you can go without that fuck you are obviously so keen on.”  And he reached out to fondle the dwarf’s cock that was digging so insistently into his belly.

 

Thorin grunted in response as the hand tightened.  “It’s the only reason I’m here,” he growled in a throaty whisper.

 

The elf laughed and straddled the dwarven king’s muscular thighs.  He knew differently.  They couldn’t live without each other for a whole ton of reasons – even if one of them was the sex.  And he quickly guided Thorin’s stiffened member up his own eager backside.  They both groaned.  It felt absolutely right and the next ten minutes were spent in an ecstatic ride until they both came.  Enough to blow your socks off, as Dwalin might have put it.

 

Thranduil collapsed onto Thorin’s broad chest, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. 

 

“Worth every mile of the journey,” gasped the dwarf, clasping his partner tightly in his arms.  “No question.”  And, with a satisfied sigh, he fell fast asleep.

 

But Thranduil remained awake, staring up at the moon.  They would reach The Grey Havens tomorrow and then they would have to part.  His relatives and his in-laws lived in Lindon, the lands that lay to the north and the south of The Grey Havens.  The Noldor elves, his dead wife’s family, lived to the north and his father’s relatives, the Sindar, lived to the south where he had himself been born.  When Oropher, his father, had been made king of Mirkwood, that’s when they had moved away – and that had also meant moving away from the beautiful, dark-haired Noldor elf woman for whom he had developed an infatuation as a young prince.

 

Oropher had been pleased that his new kingship offered him the chance to break up the relationship because he was convinced that a union between the two wouldn’t work.  But, over the long, long years, the two had remained faithful to each other and, when Oropher was finally killed in battle, Thranduil had rushed to The Grey Havens to make his marriage proposal.

 

But, his stern father had been right: the union hadn’t worked.  His sophisticated wife had hated the Silvan Mirkwood and had made every excuse to take Legolas, their son, on extended visits to Lindon, to visit her family there.  A distance had not only opened up between the king and his wife but between the king and his son.

 

Thranduil sighed.  She was long dead but, every 20 years or so, he went on a duty visit to Lindon: the relatives on both sides expected it.  And, although he had no desire to put Thorin through the embarrassment of being forced to meet with unaccepting family members, the dwarf had insisted on travelling with him as far as The Grey Havens – and he was very glad of it.  Since he had seldom thought of his wife after that fatal day when he had first seen Thorin in Erebor, standing in the shadows by his grandfather’s throne, it was only on these duty visits that he found himself mulling over his failed marriage and his attempts – very foolish attempts, perhaps – to put things right.

 

But, thinking about such things would only spoil his last days with Thorin before he set off alone for Lindon and so he shut his eyes tightly, pushed all melancholy memories from his mind and, clasping the seductive body of his lover in his arms, joined him in sleep.

 

.o00o.

 

The next day, they rode into an attractive, tree-lined street and Thranduil stopped in front of an elegant mansion over-looking the harbour.

 

“You’ll be lodging here with a friend of mine whilst I’m away,” the elven king said, his eyes dancing.  He had been very secretive about where Thorin would be staying in The Grey Havens.

 

“What!  With an elf?” asked the dwarf in surprise.  “Are you sure I shall be made welcome here?”

 

“He knows all about you and is expecting us,” Thranduil laughed.  “He’s looking forward to your company over the next month.”  And he dismounted and banged on the door with a big, brass knocker.

 

A servant opened the door and Thorin found himself in a beautiful inner courtyard, full of bright flowers and with a central fountain playing gently.  And then their host bustled into view and Thorin blinked.  An elf?!  Well, this was the most un-elf like elf he had ever seen.  He was tall, of course, but he was also surprisingly thick-set rather than slender and he strode into the courtyard on large, booted feet, flinging his big, muscled arms wide in a gesture of welcome.  And, by Mahal, he had a beard!!  If Thranduil hadn’t told him that they were staying with an elven friend, Thorin would have thought him a man – a merchant, perhaps, or a sea-captain, or even a very large dwarf!

 

Their host saw him gawp and let out a roar of laughter.  “He didn’t warn you, did he?” he boomed, in a deep, friendly voice, shaking his head of beautiful, silver hair in amusement.

 

And suddenly, the dwarf knew and returned the elf’s laugh with a huge grin.  “You must be Cirdan the Shipwright, lord of The Grey Havens.”  And when his host nodded in gleeful agreement, Thorin laid a hand upon his breast and gave him a deep bow.  If you were such a one as Cirdan, a great Maker and skilled in a craft, then you deserved respect and admiration, even if you were an elf.   “It is an honour to meet you,” he said.

 

Thranduil looked pleased with his partner’s response but Cirdan pulled Thorin to him in a bear hug: “And it is an honour to meet you, little king!” he exclaimed with genuine pleasure.

 

Well, Thorin wasn’t so sure about the ‘little’ but, since it was Cirdan and his welcome was such a warm one, he decided to let that pass.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

The three spent an enjoyable evening, eating and drinking in the beautiful dining room and talking about times past and current political affairs.  In the end, Thorin made his excuses and went to bed.  Cirdan poured himself another drink and sat back in his chair.

 

“Well, when you’ve finished with your little king, you can pass him on,” he grinned amiably.

 

Thranduil’s lips tightened.  “If I find you’ve laid a single finger on him when I get back from my journey……” he snarled.

 

Cirdan continued to grin.  “Oho,” he laughed.  “So, it’s that serious, then?”

 

The elven king’s voice was still tight: “Why do you think I married him?  I love him.”

 

“Well, I remember you marrying once before, supposedly for love.  And that didn’t work out, did it?  I shall live in hope of another break-up.”  And his booming laugh echoed around the room.

 

Thranduil was not amused.  “Cirdan!” he said threateningly.

 

But the lord of The Grey Havens was entertained by his friend’s response.  “So, he knows all about your first wife?”

 

“Of course he does: we share everything.”

 

Cirdan reached out and patted Thranduil’s arm.  “Only teasing,” he said.  “But, it’s extraordinary to see the icy, aloof King of Mirkwood so infatuated with a dwarf, however handsome.  The sex must be good.”

 

Thranduil was only slightly mollified.  “Yes, the sex is good,” he replied.  “But there is much more than that to our relationship.”

 

“I’m sure there is,” said the shipwright in conciliatory tones.  “Now,” he continued briskly.  “Off to bed with you.  I imagine your little king is waiting for you so that he can say his goodbyes before you leave tomorrow.  Lucky you!”  And he let out one of his booming laughs again.

 

.o00o.

Saying goodbye had taken up half the night and now Cirdan and Thorin were standing on a spacious balcony that overlooked the street, watching Thranduil trot away until he was out of sight.

 

“Rather him than me,” laughed Cirdan.  “Both sets of relatives are a bit of a pain.  You’ve made a wise choice not to go with him.”

 

Thorin gave a wry smile: “I don’t think that either group would have welcomed his new partner.”

 

“Well, Thranduil’s Sindar relatives didn’t exactly welcome his Noldor bride either.”

 

“So I believe,” replied Thorin with a grimace.  Actually, he didn’t want to talk about his partner’s dead wife because there were still little sparks of jealousy over one whom Thranduil had apparently loved devotedly for so many years before the break-up had happened.  Neither spoke about her much because it caused them both pain in different ways.  But Cirdan wasn’t to know that.

 

“It’s a lovely day,” said the shipwright, glancing up at the blue sky.  “Let’s have lunch out here on the balcony where we can see the harbour and I can point out my ships to you.  I’m proud of my work, you know.”

 

They sat there at a small table, eating good food and drinking good wine with Cirdan pinpointing and naming his ships in the harbour below.  These were glorious things, intended to take groups of elves into the West when their time came.  Thorin admired them but they also made him feel sad as he thought of Thranduil setting sail after his death and how much he wished that he could go with him.

 

“This is a beautiful street,” he commented, trying to change the direction of their conversation.  And he indicated the many fine mansions that lined the road.  “Must mean a lot of rich, important people live here.”

 

Cirdan shrugged.  “It’s a mixed bunch.  For instance, just look at that elegant house at the end of the street.  You’d never guess that it’s a brothel, would you?  Or perhaps you would.  I can imagine that Thranduil has told you all about it.  You know, the one he used in the weeks leading up to his first marriage and from time to time afterwards?”

 

Thorin’s heart grew cold but he managed to nod his head rather jerkily.  “Ah, so that’s the place, is it?” he said quite calmly.  “Yes, he’s filled me in on that particular establishment.”

 

.o00o.

 

Riding north, towards the home of his in-laws, Thranduil was also thinking about the brothel.  As he had arrived at Cirdan’s mansion, he had looked down the street and had seen the brothel standing there elegantly at the end of the road.  It brought back powerful memories.  _Ah, Lilith_ , he thought.  _Dearest, beautiful Lilith._ And his heart swelled with affection as he thought of her.

 

.o00o.

 

“You know,” said Cirdan, settling back in his chair with a cup of tea, “Oropher was a great warrior but a hard father.  He was determined that his son wouldn’t marry one of the Noldor but the more he kept them apart, the stronger Thranduil’s infatuation grew.  I think I was a sort of substitute father for him and, before the move to Mirkwood, he would spend a lot of time in my house.  Then, as soon as his father died, he shot off to Lindon.  A wedding was announced and then he came to stay with me whilst everything was arranged.  But, after so long apart, he was afraid that he and his bride would somehow make a mess of their wedding night – you know how chaste so many elves are – and he was concerned that he would let her down in some way.  And when he found out about the brothel at the end of the road, he discussed with me as to whether or not it was a good idea to have a sort of ‘practice run’ there.”

 

Thorin sat unmoving.

 

“I said I couldn’t decide for him – that he had to make up his own mind.  But I expect you already know all this.”

 

“Yes,” said Thorin tonelessly and untruthfully.

 

Cirdan sighed and put down his cup gently.  “Well, he visited the brothel and hooked up with Lilith, but whether it helped or hindered, I wouldn’t know.  His marriage went wrong from the beginning and, after some time, he began to visit Lilith again.  I expect you could tell me more.”

 

“It’s private,” said Thorin in distant tones.  Well, yes, so private that Thranduil had never mentioned this to him.  More secrets and lies, he thought bitterly.

 

Pt III

 

Thranduil continued to think about his wife as he rode on to Lindon. He remembered the breathless excitement when he had finally asked her to marry him and then the odd emotion that had passed through him when she had said ‘yes’ but rather reluctantly.  Was she having second thoughts?  Was she afraid of being bedded by him?  He was pretty confident that she was a virgin and he should also have been chaste – but he wasn’t.  And he was ashamed.  As a young prince, he had been seduced and abused by Maelon, a corrupt elf lord, who had moved to Mirkwood with Oropher’s court and had continued to pester him there.  But, he owed Maelon his life and they shared many secrets and so he hadn’t got rid of him until the elf had also seduced Thorin.  Thranduil had wanted to kill him but, in the end, he had only sent him away into exile.

 

But, the sexual activity he had indulged in with Maelon was a problem.  Abusive male/male sex was the only kind he knew and he had begun to wonder what sort of a mess he would make of his wedding night.  And the nearer it got, the colder his wife-to-be seemed to become.  Was she, indeed, afraid of physical contact with him?  She even drew back when he tried to kiss her.  And he knew he had to make sure that their intimate life together was a success or else his marriage would be a failure.  In the end, after an open-ended chat with Cirdan, he had decided to visit the brothel at the end of the street. 

 

.o00o.

 

He had entered the elegant property with a certain amount of embarrassment, with no idea what he would find there.  Would it be filled with half-dressed young women drifting around in flimsy  undergarments?  Would he see men and elf lords there whom he recognised and who would look uncomfortable when he saw them again?  But, he saw neither.  Instead, a pleasant-looking woman stepped out from behind a desk to greet him.

 

“How may I help you?” she asked politely.

 

“Umm,” replied Thranduil.

 

Seeing his uncertainty, she touched his elbow gently and guided him into an ante-room where she gestured to a sofa. They sat down side by side and he looked around in appreciation at the tastefully decorated surroundings.  Well, you could see where the money went!

 

“Our clients come here for many reasons,” the woman said.  “Perhaps you can explain to me your particular reasons and I can tell you if we can help you.”

 

“Err….I’m getting married soon.”

 

“I understand,” she said with a smile.  “You need some instruction, perhaps.”

 

Thranduil gave an uncertain nod, glad that he didn’t have to explain any more.

 

“I believe I know just the person – Lilith.  She’s slightly older and very experienced.  I’ll just show you to the room where she does her entertaining.”  And she led him up the sweeping staircase to a lovely bedroom overlooking the sea.

 

Whilst he waited, he stared out at the view and began to panic.  Older?  How old?  And he had visions of an elderly crone who had seen it all and done it all.  He gulped.  Perhaps he should make his escape now.  But, the door opened with a quiet click.  Too late.  It was Lilith.  And a look of relief spread over his face as she entered the room.

 

Lilith gave a gurgle of laughter.  “I can see that you’ve been told about this elderly hag who was coming to give you instruction,” she said in a melodic voice.  “So the question is: is this old lady acceptable?”

 

Thranduil blushed.  She wasn’t as young as most girls who worked in these places – about 35, perhaps – but she was quite beautiful and had very kind,  grey eyes.  Her manner immediately put him at his ease.  “And my answer is: are you old enough for an elf lord who has seen more than a thousand years?” he grinned.

 

She folded her hands primly in front of her.  “Hmm, difficult,” she said.  “We shall have to find out.”  And they both laughed at the thought of the different pace at which the race of men and that of elves aged and the acrobatic thoughts that entered the mind when they mused over such things.

 

“Now,” she murmured, indicating the sofa, “you must sit down and tell me everything – as honestly as you can.”

 

And so he sat down and, gazing earnestly into her eyes, he told her about his upcoming marriage and his anxieties over their wedding night.

 

Her forehead wrinkled.  “And so, you’re worried about whether or not you have the skill to please your bride.  But, is there something more?”

 

Thranduil stared at her for a moment and then he let his gaze drop.  “Yes,” he whispered.

 

She said nothing but squeezed his hand.

 

Thranduil swallowed hard.  “When I was a youth, I was seduced by a much older elf lord.  He was a part of my life for years and, since I was a reluctant partner, I suppose you could say that I was raped.  Such congress is my only experience and I have no idea how to make love to a woman.  I am afraid that my bride will develop a disgust of me.”

 

“Thank you for telling me,” said Lilith softly.  “You have been very badly used and I hope I can help you relearn what love is.”

 

“So, where do we start?” the elven king asked hesitantly.  This was difficult for him because his icy arrogance usually prevented him from asking for help.

 

She took him by the hand and then led him as far as the door.  “Shut your eyes for a moment,” she murmured, “and try to imagine that I am your bride and that the wedding feast has just ended.  We have entered the bridal apartment and now the two of us are together, alone, at last.  So….what will you do next?”

 

Thranduil stood there with his eyes closed.  He imagined the beautiful Noldor elf standing next to him – and she was all his.  He had waited so long and now he could feel her breath stirring the tendrils of his hair.  She stood so close that he could sense the heat radiating from her body, searing his own skin.  He opened his eyes a fraction and could see marble, polished shoulders and full breasts pushing against silken fabric.  He took a deep breath and, seizing Lilith by those lovely shoulders, he pushed her hard against the door and kissed her fiercely, all that longing, contained for so long, now bursting from him in a wave of overwhelming desire.

 

But, as his hips began to grind against hers, she placed her hands upon his chest and pushed him firmly away, leaving him confused and gasping.

 

“No,” she said.  “Not very romantic, Thranduil.  Is this how Maelon treated you?”

 

And, yes, it was.  Usually, the moment that Maelon had got him on his own, he would fuck him up against the door.  Thranduil sagged.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “You must teach me what to do.”

 

“Well, how about picking me up in your arms,” she smiled.  “That’s a very romantic thing to do.”

 

So he did and it was.  And he carried her gently towards the bed and paused there, wondering what to do next.  “What would Maelon have done?” she asked quizzically, reaching up from her position in his arms and tucking his long, silken hair behind an ear.

 

Thranduil looked uncomfortable.  “He probably would have flung me face down on the bed and taken me from behind.”

 

She raised an eyebrow.

 

“All right – I understand,” he answered.  “Whatever Maelon would have done has got to be the wrong thing – and I must do the opposite.”

 

“You’re a fast learner,” she grinned.

 

.o00o.

 

Thranduil spent most of the next two weeks in Lilith’s bed.  It was a happy time and he laughed more than he had ever done in his lonely life.  She taught him to be kind, gentle and generous as a partner and to show passion in a way that would not scare or intimidate or cause physical pain to his virgin bride.

 

It was two days before the wedding and he had come to say goodbye and to thank her for everything that she had done for him.  He was no longer afraid and he was really looking forward to sharing his newfound knowledge with his wife-to-be.  All he wanted to do was make her happy and show her the depth of his love.

 

He drew Lilith into a deeply affectionate hug.  “You have been so good to - and for - me,” he said with heartfelt emotion in his voice.  “You have been more a friend than a lover and I would like to give you a gift before I go.”  And he handed over a beautifully crafted box.  Lilith’s eyes widened when she opened it because it contained a whole selection of extraordinary elven jewellery.

 

She shut it firmly.  “This is too much,” she said.  “I cannot take this.”

 

Thranduil grinned.  “Yes, you will.  They are beautiful things for a beautiful person.  You may find you need such things of value as you get older.”

 

And so, she had kept them and then they had exchanged many tender, affectionate kisses before they had finally said goodbye.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

And yet, in spite of all this, his wedding night had been a disaster.  His beautiful new wife had frozen as she lay on the bed; nothing – no gentle, loving caresses, no whispered, passionate words, no restraint, no clever trick learned from Lilith – was any help at all and Thranduil felt totally rejected.  He thought that things would get better when they moved to Mirkwood, but they only got worse because she hated her new kingdom so much; and then he thought things would get better when Legolas was born, but that only gave her an excuse to leave his bed and his court so that she could take the child on prolonged visits to her relatives.  Thranduil, who was used to loneliness, had never felt so lonely in his life.  And, in the end, he had sought out Lilith again.

 

As a seemingly courteous gesture, he would sometimes accompany his wife as far as The Grey Havens and, there, he would stay with Cirdan whilst she visited her Noldor kin.  And, once she had departed, he would go in search of Lilith.

 

It was a shock the first time.  He had lost track of the passing years and Lilith now worked behind the desk.  She was still beautiful but her chestnut hair was grey and she wore it in a more mature style, wound elegantly about her head.  But, she had seen the shock on his face and had given him a wry smile:

 

“Not quite a thousand years yet, but I’m getting there,” she said.  “Would you prefer someone younger?”

 

He had seized her warmly by the hands.  “Certainly not,” he had laughed.  “Only Lilith will do for me.  What’s the odd grey hair between friends?”  And they had lain on the bed together and talked for hours.  But he was married now and he was faithful to his wife: he was no longer interested in any physical intimacy – only the companionship of this lovely woman.

 

She was shocked when she heard about the failure of his marriage and thought about it for a long time.

 

“You know,” she finally said.  “Have you ever wondered if your wife has a problem which has brought about this rift?  You must not blame yourself.  As far as I am concerned, you were a delightful bed companion and learned your lessons well.  Why would she spurn someone as sexually considerate as you?”

 

Thranduil looked miserable.  “Perhaps Maelon had a more damaging effect upon me than I first imagined.  Perhaps I am unlovable.”

 

“Don’t you dare say that!” she exclaimed fiercely and she seized his chin as he lay next to her upon the pillow.  “You are beautiful!  You are sexually desirable!  And you have been the kindest companion I have ever had!  I have thought about your wife and it seems to me that she entered a relationship with you because the set-up suited her perfectly.”

 

Thranduil gave her a questioning look.

 

“She must had known that your father would never consent to a marriage between the two of you and yet she remained true to you for all that time.”

 

“I thought that was because we loved each other,” said the elf quietly.

 

“Perhaps,” Lilith answered, “but, it’s my opinion that she was afraid of physical intimacy and this was a good way of avoiding it whilst also holding any other potential suitors at bay.  Why was she not overjoyed when you asked her to marry you?  She must have been appalled when a marriage that she thought would never happen suddenly became a reality.  But, how could she refuse your offer after she had kept you waiting so long?  It isn’t you, Thranduil,” she said, stroking his cheek.  “You must not blame yourself.”

 

“I shall always blame myself,” he replied, “but, thank you for that insight.”  He sighed.  “I think it might contain an element of truth.”

 

And so, after that, Thranduil had become resigned to the state of his marriage and, when he had the opportunity, he would continue to visit Lilith in The Grey Havens.  Not long after, she had finally left her job and had bought a pretty townhouse, but he continued to visit her there.  Then, one day, as he arrived at Cirdan’s home for his usual stay, he found the elf lord waiting for him in the garden.  “I’m afraid she’s dead, Thranduil,” his friend had said with a certain amount of sympathy. 

 

This was one of Thranduil’s first real brushes with mortality on a personal and painful level and he was both disturbed and very upset.  Back in Mirkwood, he had become more icy, aloof and withdrawn than he had ever been.  Centuries had passed and then, unexpectedly, his wife had left him.  She had fallen into a consuming melancholy and had abandoned him and Legolas for her relatives in Lindon so that she could take one of Cirdan’s ships into the West.  Shockingly, she had faded and died before she could do this.  Legolas had blamed him, but the news of her death had arrived on the very same day that he had first seen Thorin in Erebor and a new passion had started in his life.

 

Thranduil drew his horse to a halt.  He was approaching his wife’s old home and he gritted his teeth, knowing that the following days with his in-laws would not be a pleasure.

 

.o00o.

 

A week later, Thorin was thinking.  This was, as usual, a bad idea.  He had been thinking ever since Cirdan had told him about Lilith.  No wonder Thranduil’s marriage hadn’t worked, what with him sating his lusts, both before and after the wedding, in a brothel.  He had always thought that Thranduil’s wife was to blame for the failure of their relationship but now he knew all this stuff…….Poor woman!  She had obviously not been enough for the elven king’s needs and his heart grew cold as he wondered if his partner had been visiting brothels since their own marriage.  _Was he enough for Thranduil?_ he asked himself anxiously.  The elven king was very demanding: but Thorin was usually up for it – except first thing in the morning.  And, of course, they were forced to spend a certain amount of time apart, either because of their duties in their kingdoms, or because of trips like the one they were currently on.  And he thought back to the moment when he had suggested that he should accompany Thranduil as far as The Grey Havens: the king had tried to persuade him that it wasn’t worth his effort – and now he was wondering why.  Was it because Thranduil had wanted to visit the brothel at the end of the street and now Thorin’s presence had thwarted his desires?

 

The more he thought, the more upset Thorin became.  Now that he knew about the way that the elven king had treated his wife, the more he wondered if this was the sort of person that he could live with: he would always expect it to be his turn next – and perhaps his ‘turn’ had already come without his knowledge.  No, he couldn’t stand such thoughts.  It was better to take action now rather than wait for the sword to strike home.  And he began to pack his things.

 

But, as he pulled the cord tight on his rucksack, the door swung open and Thranduil marched cheerfully into the room.  He was grinning from ear to ear.  “Surprise!” he laughed.  “I only spent a few days with each set of relations – I really couldn’t stand them any more.  Pleased to see me?”

 

Thorin stood up and glared.  Then he brushed past the elven king and made for the door.  Startled, Thranduil grabbed him by the shoulder.  “Hey!  Why have you packed?  Where are you going?”

 

The dwarf paused, turned and gave Thranduil a long, insolent stare.  “One word,” he said.  “Lilith!”

 

The elf changed colour.  “Lilith was long ago,” he finally said, tight-lipped.  “What has she to do with you and me?”

 

“She was a whore who worked in the brothel at the end of this very street – a brothel that you attended frequently, both before and after your marriage, according to Cirdan.  And perhaps you are still a customer there: how would I know?”

 

Thranduil’s face worked: he didn’t know where to start.  “Don’t you dare call Lilith a whore!  She was the best and kindest of women!” he hissed.

 

“Whom you paid for sex,” snarled Thorin.  “What else should I call her?”

 

“And how dare you imply that I would betray you in a brothel!”

 

“Because you betrayed your wife there many times!”

 

“It wasn’t like that!” exclaimed Thranduil.

 

“Then tell me what it _was_ like,” the dwarf sneered.  “One fuck is very much like another as far as you’re concerned, it would seem, since you don’t appear to care if it’s with your wife or a whore or, perhaps, even me.”

 

“Thorin!” the elven king cried in distress.  “I would never betray you.  Nor did I ever betray my wife.  Lilith tried to help me when I feared my marriage wouldn’t work!”

 

The dwarf gave him a disbelieving look; then, picking up his bag once more, he walked out of the room.  Thranduil ran after him but Thorin turned on him.  “Don’t follow me,” he said angrily.  “I’m warning you not to follow me!”  And Thranduil stopped on the threshold, an appalled look on his face, and watched his partner disappear off down the stairs.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt V

 

Thorin strode through the beautiful garden, his pack on his back, making for the stables.  An amused voice from the shade of a rose arbour stopped him in his tracks.

 

“What?  Leaving so soon?  And with Thranduil returned so early?”

 

His host.  He turned slowly and gave Cirdan a stiff bow.

 

“I would like to thank you for your generous hospitality,” he muttered, “but…..circumstances….”  And he stuttered to a halt.

 

“Ah, yes,” murmured the elf lord.  “Circumstances can be such annoying things.”  He gave the dwarf a hard stare.  A servant with sharp ears had just brought him news of the row and now he was lying in wait.

 

“You implied that you knew all about Thranduil’s marriage – his wife, Lilith and the brothel – otherwise I would never have said anything about it.”

 

Thorin stood there thin-lipped, saying nothing.

 

“But you _do_ know all about Maelon, don’t you?” the elf continued.

 

Thorin blinked rapidly.

 

“Hmm, I see that you do.  But, I wonder if you appreciate fully the dreadful damage that he did to your elven king.”

 

“It was a bad experience, I know that,” said Thorin tightly.   “And, since you know so much, you are doubtless aware that I have had personal experience of this Maelon and so have a certain understanding of the situation.”

 

“Yes, I believe that he controlled you for a few days,” replied Cirdan calmly, his head on one side.  “But, I want you to recall what he did to you and then imagine the same things happening to Thranduil as a very young prince, week after week, year after year.  He was aware enough to comprehend what this corrupt relationship had done to him and he was desperately afraid that, when he got married, he would be unable to love his wife in a way that she deserved.”

 

Thorin blinked again.  His relationship with Maelon had been so awful – so disgusting – that he had pushed it to the back of his mind.  And, in doing so, perhaps he hadn’t given enough thought to what had happened to Thranduil.

 

Cirdan continued quietly: “He sought Lilith’s help before his wedding.  And then he sought her help again, years later, after the total breakdown of his marriage.  I remember those years well,” he said sadly, leaning back in his chair.  “He had tried so hard but it hadn’t worked.  He was desperately lonely and he sought out Lilith for her companionship and support – she was an old lady by then – not for sex.  He never betrayed his wife after their marriage and would visit Lilith at her townhouse, not the brothel.”

 

The elf lord sighed.  “It broke my heart to watch him become harder, colder, more distant.  But, Lilith carried him through a very bad experience.  Of course, when she died, he went to pieces.  He seemed to withdraw completely.  It wasn’t until he met you that I saw the old Thranduil re-emerge again.”

 

Thorin stood with his head bowed, staring at the ground.  Cirdan gave one, last push.

 

“And if, in your private life, Thranduil has ever shown you tenderness or gentleness or love, then it’s all thanks to Lilith.”

 

“Thank you,” said Thorin.  And he turned on his heel and marched back into the house.  Cirdan smiled to himself.

 

Thorin tapped on the door to their room and then quietly entered.  Thranduil faced him coldly.  This might prove difficult, the dwarf thought.

 

“I have been talking to Cirdan,” he said, “and I realise now that I didn’t understand.”

 

“Well, perhaps you’ll understand this,” snapped the elf lord.  And he seized the dwarven king and flung him face down on the bed.  There he yanked down his breeches and entered him brutally.  It was very painful, unprepared as Thorin was, and when Thranduil had finished, he rolled off him and covered his eyes with his arm.  “That’s the real Thranduil,” he said.  “The Thranduil that Maelon created.”

 

Thorin drew a deep breath: this was a critical moment in their relationship and he had to play things right.  He edged across the bed and, pushing the elf’s arm away, he cupped his chin in his hand and turned his face towards him.  Thranduil kept his eyes closed but didn’t resist.

 

“The real Thranduil,” he said softly, “nursed a badly wounded dwarven king tenderly for days after The Battle of the Five Armies.  The real Thranduil made love to this virgin with such gentle passion on that first occasion that I fell completely in love with him.  The real Thranduil faced up to the elves of Middle-earth and was determined to have me, no matter what any of them thought.  He has risked his life for me and has been true to me and has wept tears over me and has loved me so deeply that I cannot bear to part with him.  That is the real Thranduil.  And someone as vile as Maelon could never change what he truly is.”

 

There was a long silence and Thorin held his breath.  Then Thranduil rolled towards him and buried his face in his neck.  “Thank you for coming back to me,” he whispered and Thorin could feel a wetness there.

 

“I should never have left,” said the dwarf.

 

There were many tears and kisses after that.  They cried over their own stupidity.  Thranduil cried over his lost Lilith and Thorin comforted him.  And Thorin cried over the young elf who had been Thranduil and who had suffered and been lost also for such a long time.  They held each other tightly all that night and, when the morning came and the sun rose and they could hear the mournful cry of the seagulls overhead, they knew another chapter of their life together was over and done with and that they could now step more confidently forward into a new day together.

 

.o00o.

 

**Well, I’ve been away for some time and it’s nice to be back.  Both my daughters have had babies only days apart and I have been dashing from one end of the country to the other.  Those babies were a New Year’s gift to me and this is my gift to you.  I hope you enjoyed finding out a bit more about Thranduil’s wife and meeting Cirdan for the first time.**

**We get to know a little about this wife in my very first Thorinduil story, _King of the Antlered Throne._   I’ve written so many of these stories now, all standalone but forming an arc, following on one to the other, that I wonder sometimes if I will ever finish, LOL!**

**Happy New Year, dear readers!**

 

 

 

 


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